Chapter 9
The Duke of Rothbury did not answer at once.
Instead, he merely stared at her with his unfathomable dark eyes, letting the silence between them linger.
Evelina did not know if he intended to leave the question unanswered or if he was waiting to see if the silence became unbearable to her before it did him. She waited.
At last, he said, “It is an unfortunate family matter.”
“Is that so?” Evelina frowned, trying to think of what that family matter might be.
“My proposed arrangement included the stipulation that we would both leave one another to our own affairs,” His Grace said. “The matter need not concern you in the slightest.”
“I might agree with you,” Evelina said, “except that I would have more to lose through a marriage than you would. Can you fault me for wishing to know the exact situation that I might be entering?”
The Duke of Rothbury narrowed his eyes. “Have you considered my offer, then?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, hoping that the gesture looked coy and confident. In truth, Evelina was resisting the impulse to fidget. “I have thought it over, but I am not entirely convinced yet that this arrangement is in my best interest. I suspect that you have similar feelings.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I noticed that you were speaking to three unwed young ladies before approaching me,” Evelina said. “It does not take a particularly astute individual to guess as to why you might be doing that.”
She dug her nails into her palms. His Grace had promised her nothing yet, and she had agreed to nothing.
Still, something inside her tightened when she considered the possibility of him proposing marriage to other, younger and lovelier ladies.
Was it indignation that he found her so utterly replaceable?
The thought was ridiculous, but it was the only feeling that made sense.
“I find your jealousy rather amusing,” he said.
She wondered if he would be like her late husband, after all. Could Evelina live with a man like that, one who wanted to warm every woman’s bed except her own? Evelina swallowed hard. As long as he provided her with a child, she supposed that she could.
It would be difficult and frustrating. But what care should she have if her husband, who wished to live separately from her, did not desire her?
If anything, that was a desirable outcome.
She would not need to think about his desires at all during their marriage of convenience.
That was, of course, assuming that she agreed to the proposal.
Evelina had not yet. A small part of her thought the whole suggestion was ridiculous, but there was another part that was acutely aware His Grace had given her forty-eight hours, and she had only thirty-two or so left.
“Why do you assume that I am jealous?” Evelina asked.
“Because you are,” he said smugly. “And it is fascinating. It gives me hope that you will provide me with the answer I want tomorrow.”
“Does it now? I should think you would expect me to decline given that you have already decided to pursue other prospects.”
“I will need another plan in the event that you refuse. I am hopeful, but you have proven yourself to be exceedingly unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable,” she mused. “I like that.”
“I assumed you would.”
“You make many assumptions, Your Grace.”
Men often did, though. Evelina had seen countless gentlemen in the ton who believed they knew more about the fairer sex than women themselves did, and she had always found them to be rather arduous.
Strangely, the Duke of Rothbury did not seem like those men to her.
He spoke in a careful and measured way, as though he was considering each assumption thoughtfully before he made it.
Some of his conclusions were correct, too.
Evelina did like being unpredictable. So very much.
She heaved a great, melodramatic sigh. “Alas, I fear that I must depart, Your Grace. But thank you ever so much for this invigorating conversation.”
His Grace looked taken aback, and Evelina grinned.
“I had assumed that you would be distraught at my absence,” she said slyly. “I will likely arrive home to a sea of suitors. Do try to conceal your jealousy.”
The Duke of Rothbury opened his mouth as if to offer some retort, but no words emerged. He shut his jaw with an audible click.
Evelina curtsied. “Good day, Your Grace.”
“I must escort you to your carriage.”
“Why?” she asked, giving a light laugh. “Do you imagine that I will be beset by some villain along the way?”
“You have already found the villain, my lady.”
“You do not seem villainous to me,” Evelina said, continuing along the path.
He went alongside her, keeping a respectable distance between them. “You seem to hold a higher opinion of me than many whom I have met,” he said.
“Do I?” she asked. “I cannot imagine that is true.”
“Why not?”
Evelina frowned, trying to recall if anyone had spoken much at all about the Duke of Rothbury. She could remember nothing, but that was to be expected of a man who had been away for ten years. Soon, the ton would be alive with speculation about his return and reminiscences of far-flung memories.
“You keep company with Lord Murrayton,” Evelina said. “He and his wife are both respectable. I do not imagine he would associate with you otherwise.”
“We were in the navy together.”
“So?” she asked. “Did you—well—I suppose you might have displayed some repugnant behavior when you were in the navy. I have been to the tavern enough to know about the sort of behavior that sailors display in ports. But that matters naught to me.”
“Even if we were to be married?”
Evelina shot him a sharp look. Did His Grace realize what manner of man her husband had been?
No, of course not. The Duke of Rothbury had likely never met her husband, and if by chance he had, she doubted that His Grace would remember him well at all. It was simply the thought of having a child with this man that had made Evelina think too much on a man who was best left forgotten.
“A man’s sins are always forgiven more readily than a woman’s are,” Evelina said. “If you indulged in bawdy houses or taverns, I care not. As you said, our marriage would involve remaining removed from one another’s affairs.”
“Very well.”
The street was in sight, black carriages parked neatly alongside it.
Evelina’s heartbeat quickened just a little.
She was nearing the end of this conversation, and she still had not decided if she should accept this man’s proposal.
Evelina bit the inside of her cheek, thinking.
There was time yet to decide, but it did not bode well for her that she had been in this man’s company for some time and still could not determine if marriage to him would be a blessing or a curse.
It would not be what she intended at all.
“Marriage to a duke was not my plan,” she said. “It was not even my second plan.”
“Am I your third plan?” he asked. “I applaud your ingenuity.”
“Thank you.”
“But I believe you are displaying a tendency to move through your plans rather quickly,” His Grace continued. “I would suggest giving this third plan of yours considerable thought.”
They had reached the end of the path. Evelina halted just a few feet from the gates, aware that there were footmen nearby. However, none of them seemed to be paying her or His Grace any mind.
“You say that because it benefits you,” Evelina said.
“Of course. Being an admiral, I have learned that there must always be plans, plural. You never know when one might fail,” he said. “While you are on your third plan, however, I remain confident in my first plan.”
“Me,” Evelina said.
“Indeed.”
He bowed deeply and reached for her hand.
Evelina noticed that he moved slowly, as if his intention was to allow her the time to escape him if she wanted.
His fingertips brushed the fine silk of her glove as he lifted her hand up.
The Duke of Rothbury placed a kiss along her knuckles, and Evelina’s breath hitched involuntarily.
When His Grace lifted his head, his dark eyes searched her face.
“Ah, your blush is even more pleasant in the daylight.”
“You are—you are—”
“The colors rival even that of the roses,” he continued, seemingly undeterred.
And Evelina’s face was hot. “You are tormenting me,” she rasped.
“Not yet.”
He leaned forward and tilted his head just a little. The duke was near enough that his breath was warm against her lips, and suddenly, there was no space between his mouth and hers. Their lips were touching.
Evelina thought of the footmen behind her. She thought of the ton and how, if anyone saw, they would expect her to marry this man. Her mind readily supplied her with dozens, hundreds, of reasons for why she ought to storm away from him and let her furious retreat speak louder than words ever could.
But something inside her, which she could not yet name, surged to life.
She pressed her lips hard against his, thinking of a young and newlywed woman who had wanted passion and attention.
Without a conscious thought, she seized the lapels of his jacket, and he made a startled sound deep in his throat.
Evelina felt his palms hovering over her shoulder blades, as though he could not decide if he ought to touch her.
And she kissed him as hard as she could.
After a heartbeat, he pushed back against her.
They deepened the kiss, and all Evelina’s concerns melted away.
It was as if that single moment of passion became her entire world.
She basked in the warmth of his attention and the spice of his cologne.
Everything inside her was warm and light, and she kept kissing him despite the small, growing ache in her jaw and the dull throb gathering between her thighs.
“Evelina?”
All her thoughts fell apart, and she pushed him away. Evelina gasped for air, her chest heaving. It was as if she had left her body, and awareness returned to her in stages, like a play slowly unfolding.
That was her mother’s voice. Her mother did not sound angry or scandalized. Her mother must simply be looking for her.
“Evelina? Are you here?”
She ran from the duke as if he had burned her, and perhaps, he had in a sense.
An inferno raged inside of her, and she did not know why.
Evelina put her hands to her face and felt that she was hot.
She was so panicked and confused at what she had done that Evelina nearly collided with her poor mother.
“Oh!” her mother exclaimed. “My darling, you appear to have taken too much sun.”
“Yes,” Evelina said, fighting to calm her racing heart. “Yes, that must be it. That is why I wished to return home.”
Her mother nodded. “Lady Brookshire heard you mention that you wished to leave for His Grace. I thought that I would return with you.”
Evelina managed a smile. “You do not have to.”
“I want to,” her mother said, glancing at the garden gate.
A chill traced along the path of Evelina’s spine as she followed her mother’s gaze. She nearly collapsed in relief when she saw that the Duke of Rothbury was no longer standing there.
“I did enjoy Lady Brookshire’s party,” Evelina’s mother continued. “But I had also forgotten how such delights tire one.”
“Indeed, they do,” Evelina said. “Shall we?”
As Evelina escorted her mother to the waiting carriage, she found herself aching inside and out, for reasons she did not know. But the cause of her grief—or whatever this new sensation might be—was all too clearly the Duke of Rothbury.